


Never Saying Goodbye to You

by lilyvandersteen



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dopplegangers, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Time Travel, family curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-12-07 18:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyvandersteen/pseuds/lilyvandersteen
Summary: Based on a beautiful drawing by @thisdoesnotsuck, this is a story where Kurt travels through time to the 1920s and falls in love with his great-grandfather’s secret beau. Featuring a family curse, doppelgängers, angst and confusion. I promise the ending will be happy, though :-)





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HKVoyage (voyagehk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voyagehk/gifts), [thisdoesnotsuck](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thisdoesnotsuck).



> My life is quite turbulent right now, and I find that I lack the mental spoons to write. So here's something for you that I have been working on and have written several chapters of already, to keep you going until my writing mojo comes back.

Chapter 1: Lost

 

Kurt turned into the street where the bar should be, and looked around. He couldn’t see a bar anywhere. He wanted to ask a passer-by, but there was no-one in sight, and no wonder. Kurt would have avoided this part of town, too, if Mercedes hadn’t told him to come here.

The buildings were dilapidated. Paint was peeling off the window frames, the walls were covered in graffiti and busted glass panes had been clumsily fixed with cardboard and duct tape. Kurt wouldn’t even be surprised to find squatters living in them.

Pity, though. This had clearly been a ‘better neighbourhood’ once. Everything spoke of former grandeur. Though they were in bad repair, some of the shop fronts had stained-glass decorations above the shop windows, above the entrance doors were beautiful stone carvings, and the signs, though cracked and peeling, showed gold-painted lettering and detailed engraving. The biggest of the old buildings had to have been a hotel once. Most of the letters had peeled off of the sign over the entrance, which now said “T.. D..t.n”. The doors were wide open, and Kurt admired the grand foyer and the sweeping staircase for a moment, before focussing on his current predicament.

_Where on earth am I? And Mercedes said it was so easy to find… Where did I go wrong? Let’s go over it again. ‘When you come out of the subway station, you turn left and walk straight ahead for two blocks. There you should see a small park. Turn left, and then it’s the second street to the left and after that the fourth street on the right. You can’t miss it. The sign is HUGE.’_

Kurt sighed. Of course. That was it. When he’d arrived at the right stop, he’d run up the stairs to the street and turned right instead of left. No wonder he’d ended up in the wrong area. Now he’d have to trek all the way back and then follow the directions correctly. And no doubt, he’d be too late to see Mercedes perform. Ugh.

A sudden gust of wind made Kurt’s coat flap, and he shivered.

_Better get back to my apartment before I catch a cold or get mugged._

“Kurt!” someone shouted.

_Huh? There was no-one here just seconds ago! And they know my name? That doesn’t sound like Mercedes, though. It’s a man’s voice, and I’ve never heard it before…_

Kurt turned around and felt his jaw drop. Out of nowhere, a man had appeared in front of the former hotel. And he didn’t look like a squatter at all. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, an off-white suit with a whimsically patterned black and white handkerchief in the breast pocket, a grey tie and shiny black shoes. His hair was slicked back, and except for neat sideburns, he was meticulously clean-shaven. He was also sporting a sunshiny smile, like Kurt had just made his entire day by showing up in this run-down street.

“Kurt!” the man repeated, his eyes crinkling. “You came back!”

Kurt gaped at him, and then scrambled for words. “Uhm… I… I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. And… Sorry, but… Who are you?”

That wiped the smile clean off the man’s face, and Kurt saw a gamut of emotions flit over it - sadness, disappointment, anger and then, finally, resignation. The man dropped his gaze and passed a hand over his eyes, sighing. Then he threw his shoulders back and made eye contact with Kurt again, his chin up defiantly but his eyes wary. “I understand. It was nice knowing you.”

Kurt, now completely baffled, hastened to redeem himself. “No, no… I’m sorry if I said anything wrong, but seriously, I’ve never been in this part of NYC before! And I’ve honestly never seen you before. Trust me, I’d remember!”

_Uh-oh, probably shouldn’t have said that last bit…_

Kurt flushed and took to studying the uneven tiles of the sidewalk in fascination.

“Kurt?”

The man’s voice was gentle, and Kurt looked up, gasping in surprise when he noticed how close together they were standing now. Even in the darkening dusk, he could make out the green and gold flecks in the other’s eyes.

“You don’t need to lie to me to make me feel better. As I said, I understand. You’re scared. You don’t want to be seen with the same man too often, because you don’t want your family to suspect and disown you. I’m sorry. I should never have pressured you into coming back. It’s just… I thought…”

The man laid his hand on Kurt’s arm. Kurt, startled, shied away, his eyes as big as saucers, and the man sighed but took his hand away, and continued in a strangled whisper. “I thought… What we had… Was a real connection. I guess I was wrong. Goodbye.”

To his alarm, Kurt saw tears streaming down the face of the unknown man, who now retreated and walked away.

“Hey! Hey…”

Kurt chased after him, taking a pack of paper tissues from his coat pocket.

The man stopped and turned around to face Kurt again, wiping the tears from his cheeks with an impatient huff and sniffling.

“Here.” Kurt held out the pack. “Take one. I’m so sorry I made you cry. And I’m not sure what’s going on here and how you know my name, but I’m not leaving until I’ve figured it out.”

The man looked at the pocket tissues with a puzzled frown. “What am I supposed to take?”

“Well, a tissue, of course, to blow your nose. Here…”

Kurt took one of the tissues out of the plastic and offered it to the man, who took it and unfolded it carefully. “What’s this made of?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Paper, of course.”

The man gasped. “This is like… What’s it called? Kleenex! Paper tissues. I read about that in a magazine at the dentist’s. Gloria Swanson uses this to wipe off her make-up. Ingenious. You use it to blow your nose, you say?”

Kurt shrugged. “Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”

“No. I’ve never seen a paper tissue up close. Only in that magazine. Kleenex was only invented last year, after all.”

Kurt, slowly coming to the realisation that he was being pranked - because there was no other explanation, was there? - repeated, “Last year?”

“Well, yes, the article said the product first came out in 1924, and that many people now use it. But I’ve never seen it so far. My mother isn’t much for new-fangled notions.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side and fixed the man with a fierce glare. “1924? Okay, now, this joke has gone far enough. I don’t know who put you up to this prank, ‘cause it doesn’t seem like Mercedes’ style, but I’m fed up with this, so it stops NOW!”

Kurt’s fierceness startled the man, who threw up his hands in defence and took a few steps back. “I’m not joking, I assure you. You… You really don’t know me, do you?”

The quiet desperation in those last words was palpable, and Kurt no longer doubted the man’s sincerity. His heart felt heavy with shared grief.

Kurt shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Blaine,” the man said, thrusting his hand out for Kurt to shake. “My name’s Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt shook hands with Blaine. “I’m Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine nodded. “I know. Son of Herbert Hummel, who goes by ‘Burt’. Your ancestors came to Louisiana from the Alsace Region, and they settled on the German coast. Your father was the rebel of the family, who didn’t want to be a farmer like his parents and grand-parents, but chose to come to New York City and open a shop instead.”

Kurt stared at Blaine, who shrugged and added, “You told me all about yourself. And about the curse. No happily-ever-afters for anyone in your family until you’ve made up for what your great-grandfather did.”

“You can add a few ‘greats’ to that,” Kurt said slowly. “This is 2016, not 1925, whatever you may think. And the Kurt you think I am was my great-grandfather. He broke tradition and called his son Devon instead of Burt. I’ve never known why. My father, Burt, is Devon’s oldest son, and I’m an only child, seeing as my mother got ill soon after I was born, and passed away when I was eight.”

Blaine’s eyes widened during Kurt’s explanation. “2016? How is that possible? And Devon… Well… That’s my middle name.”

At that point, a loud voice yelled, “Anderson! My guests want to dance! Get back in here pronto!”

Kurt jumped in surprise and looked towards the hotel, where the voice had come from. He inhaled sharply when he saw the hotel bustling with people, the foyer bathed in light, the chandeliers sparkling and the floors and staircase gleaming.

_Oh god… Is this really 1925? How on earth…_

Blaine sighed. “That’s my cue.”

Blaine took one of Kurt’s hands and squeezed it briefly. “Well, it was good to see you again. Goodbye, Kurt.”

Blaine hurried inside, and after a beat, Kurt followed, by now more than intrigued.

Strange as it was, he seemed to have gone back in time. To 1925, apparently. The hotel guests were wearing clothes he recognised from the Great Gatsby film adaptation, and he praised himself lucky he’d gone all out this evening and chosen a classic dark grey three-piece suit to wear, because Mercedes had insisted the bar was really classy. “And you never know who you might meet.”

Kurt had rolled his eyes at that, but in hindsight, he was glad he’d dressed to the nines, because now, he didn’t stand out in the least. Although… He looked around and saw that everyone was sitting with their families. All on his own, he stuck out like a sore thumb. What was he to do? He knew nobody but Blaine, and there was no way they’d accept his modern money if he were to order a glass of the fruit punch waiters were distributing to the tables. He bit his lip, trying to figure out what on earth he was going to do.

In the end, it was decided for him.

“Stop the thief! Stop the thief!” somebody yelled, and Kurt saw a tiny boy run towards him full pelt, holding a thick leather wallet.

Kurt deftly plucked the stolen goods from the boy’s hands, but let him run out of the hotel unhindered.

Kurt handed the wallet back to its rightful owner, a thickset bald man who was huffing and puffing with the effort of having run after the thief, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Thanks! Pity… you couldn’t… catch him.”

Kurt just shrugged.

Once the man had caught his breath, he asked, “You’re one of the Hummels from the hardware store, right?”

Kurt hesitated, and then answered, “I’m Kurt Hummel, sir.”

“You’re a good kid,” the man said, clapping Kurt on the back. “Come and sit with us. Have a glass of fruit punch.”

Kurt opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and then wordlessly nodded.

“Waiter! Can we have another round, please?”

“Yes, Mr Hartz,” said the waiter, hurrying to fill the order.

“You really don’t have to…” Kurt protested, but Mr Hartz waved that away.

“Hey, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have any money at all to settle my tab, so offering you a drink is the least I can do. Now come along, I want to introduce you to my family.”

Kurt let himself be steered away, and was soon shaking hands with Mr Hartz’ brother, and nodding a polite hello to Mr Hartz’ sister-in-law and niece.

“Well, sit down, kid,” Mr Hartz prompted, now wiping the sweat off his brow with a silk handkerchief. “Listen to the music for a bit. Wasn’t that what you came for? To dance with the girls here?”

Kurt looked at the band tuning up, and his face brightened when he saw Blaine behind the microphone, discussing the set list with the others. Blaine was a singer!

Mr Hartz chuckled again. “Yep, I thought so.”

Mr Hartz leaned in and whispered into Kurt’s ear, “Word to the wise: my niece is the prettiest girl in this room, but don’t disrespect her or my brother will have your hide. Quite a temper, Carl has.”

Kurt nodded. “I won’t, sir.”

“Oh, and Kurt… When I went to the hardware store the other day, your dad said you were obsessed with cars. Maybe you’re all set on taking over your dad’s store one day, but if you’d rather become a car salesman for Ford, get in touch with me. I’m the local dealer here, and I’m always on the look-out for people who are passionate about cars. They make better salesmen. Think it over, and let me know!”

With a wink, Mr Hartz handed Kurt a business card and then leaned back in his seat, whistling along with the tune the band had just struck up.

Kurt had just settled down comfortably in his own chair, intent on enjoying Blaine’s set, when Mr Harz’ niece got up from her seat and asked him to dance.

Kurt, completely taken aback, mumbled something unintelligible, and she laughed merrily and tugged him off the bar stool and towards the dance floor.

Though Kurt hadn’t been too keen on dancing with the girl, he found himself enjoying spending time with her. Her name was Lieselotte, and she was nice. Entertaining, and funny, and light-hearted. She reminded Kurt slightly of Brittany, and that made him smile at Lieselotte fondly. She grinned back cheerfully, and chatted on about her cat having kittens and one of them being entirely black except for one of his paws and the tip of his tail.

Kurt tuned her out as well as he could, focusing on Blaine’s singing. Blaine had an amazing voice, and a wonderful stage presence, and by the first refrain, he had Kurt firmly under his spell. Kurt had to force himself not to stare and smile at Blaine besottedly, and to pretend that Lieselotte had all his attention.

After three songs and dances, Kurt politely begged off, and escorted Lieselotte back to her parents, where he then had to endure an interrogation by Lieselotte’s father. Mr Hartz rolled his eyes at his brother and winked at Kurt, who promptly flushed scarlet.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” Lieselotte asked Kurt eagerly. “I like you. You’re a really good dancer, you let me talk as much as I want to and you keep your hands to yourself.”

“I should think so!” her father bristled. Mr Hartz chuckled.

“Uhm… Maybe,” Kurt hedged, and then added, truthfully, “I had a nice time too.”

Lieselotte beamed at him.

Kurt cleared his throat. “Well, I ought to be going. Good night!”

The Hartz family chorused “Good night!” and Kurt made his escape, walking out of the bar briskly, only looking over his shoulder once, in the hopes of maybe catching Blaine’s eye and telegraphing a “Good night” to him too, but Blaine was now crooning _It Had To Be You_ with his eyes closed, and didn’t notice Kurt leaving at all.

Lieselotte, however, did notice Kurt looking back and waved at him happily. Her uncle chuckled again and said in a carrying whisper, “I think somebody’s smitten…”

_Yes, I am, but it’s not Lieselotte I fancy, nice as she is…_

Kurt strode out of the hotel, and as soon as he’d crossed the street, the wind rose again, and Kurt hastened to button up his coat and upped his pace. It wasn’t until he walked past a street lantern and noticed it was covered in graffiti that it dawned on him he was back in 2016.

_Has this all been some kind of hallucination?_

His nose started to drip from the cold, and he reached for his packet of tissues. Something fell out of his pocket onto the sidewalk, and Kurt crouched to pick it up. It was Mr Hartz’ business card, looking as pristine as it had when it was handed to Kurt earlier that evening.

_Huh… I guess all of that really happened, then… Weird._

That night, after calling Mercedes to apologise for never turning up to hear her sing, he went to bed early.

His last thought before falling asleep was, _Would I see Blaine again if I went back tomorrow?_

 

 

 


	2. You Moved Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Blaine's point of view, and tells us how he fell in love with Kurt (the 1920s version, that is).

# Chapter 2: You Moved Me

_New York, September 1925_

Blaine was walking to his dressing room after his set when he heard someone clear his throat behind him.

He turned around and saw an impeccably dressed young man, who was nervously spinning his hat around in his hands.

“Hey,” said Blaine.

“Good evening,” the man said. “My name is Kurt Hummel, and I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your singing. You have a wonderful voice.”

Blaine grinned. “Thank you.”

“It… You moved me,” Kurt continued. “I just had to come and tell you.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Blaine said.

“Kurt? Kurt, where have you run off to?” came a booming voice, and Kurt sprinted away like a startled deer, without even looking back once.

Blaine smiled and shrugged, continuing on to his dressing room.

K&B

A week later, Blaine stood outside the hotel, glad to breathe in some fresh air during his break, when Kurt came up to him again.

“Hey,” Blaine said cheerfully, and he got a shy “Hey” in return.

“You came to listen to me again?” Blaine asked.

“Yes,” Kurt admitted. “My whole family. They want me to find a nice girl to marry.”

Kurt grimaced at the ‘nice girl’.

“And you don’t really like that thought?” Blaine surmised.

Kurt shook his head.

“If you want to talk about it, feel free to come to my dressing room after my set. They say I’m a good listener.”

A slow smile stole over Kurt’s face, lighting up his features, and Blaine caught his breath.

_He’s so beautiful!_

“I’d like that,” Kurt said. “Thank you.”

Later that night, when Blaine returned to his dressing room, he found Kurt already there.

“Is this okay?” Kurt asked anxiously. “I… I didn’t want to be seen walking in here, so I came while you were still singing.”

Blaine laughed. “That’s fine. So, Kurt Hummel, tell me about yourself.”

Kurt needed no more prompting, and launched into his tale.

As Blaine had deduced from Kurt’s reluctance to marry ‘a nice girl’, Kurt liked men the way he was expected to like women. He said so haltingly, in a hoarse whisper, his eyes flitting to Blaine’s with so much fear that Blaine automatically grabbed Kurt’s hands and said, “Me too. Me too.”

That earned Blaine a blinding smile and a fluttering of Kurt’s lashes, and Blaine was a goner, now hanging onto Kurt’s every word and wondering if he’d dare to steal a kiss from Kurt before he left.

_New York, October 1925_

Kurt kept coming back week after week, as the autumn days slipped away like the leaves from the trees. He was a good storyteller, talking about his family, who’d arrived in America several generations back.

“They never really fit in, you know,” Kurt said. “They lived in Strasbourg, in the Alsace Region. That’s right on the border between France and Germany, and those two countries were always and forever fighting for that region. So one day, it would belong to France, and our family would be shunned for our clearly German name, and the Hummel children would get teased and bullied at school and called all sorts of names, and then the next day, Alsace would belong to Germany, and we’d get grief for not speaking proper German and for having married into French families.”

“So that’s why your family came here?” Blaine asked.

“That’s one part of it,” Kurt answered. “The other part… You probably won’t even believe it. Sometimes I have trouble believing it myself.”

“Believing what?” Blaine pressed on, curious.

“One day, when my great-grandfather was about sixteen, he was walking down the street when he came across his bullies. They jeered at him and taunted him, and then pushed him from the sidewalk into the middle of the street, just when a carriage was coming that way with the horses in full gallop. The worst was that it wasn’t just him that was pushed onto the street. He collided with a tiny beggar girl, who fell onto the street along with him, and my great-grandfather tried to shield her from the rearing horses’ wildly kicking legs and ended up getting kicked in the head and blacking out.

When he came to, a woman was trying to pry the girl from his arms and hissing and yelling at him. “You think it’s funny, yes? We Roma are not people to you? You can play with us and try to kill us and not get punished because we’re not real people? I’ll show you. I’ll show you what happens when you mess with us! I’ll curse you, I will!”

And the woman then switched to another language, not speaking so much as chanting, and it lulled my great-grandfather to sleep. He was just about to doze off when she started to talk in German again, and said in a biting tone, “There. Now you and your family will never be truly happy again. Not until you’ve shown true bravery to make up for what you did to my sister.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” my great-grandfather protested. “I was pushed onto the street, and I’m really sorry I bumped into your sister. I did try to protect her from the horses. I don’t think she’s hurt.”

The woman’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “No…”

“I’m telling you the truth, I swear,” my great-grandfather insisted.

“That’s terrible,” the woman said, and then she started to sob, and my great-grandfather tried to comfort her, but that only made her sob harder. It took him a long time and several handkerchiefs to calm her down enough that she could explain what was so terrible.

When she told him she’d cursed him, and none of his family would ever be happy again until one of them had shown true bravery, he laughed. He didn’t believe her.

A week later, though, his father suddenly died of a heart attack, though he’d never shown any sign of illness, and that shook my great-grandfather up greatly. Suddenly, he wasn’t all that sceptic anymore, and he looked up the beggar woman and her sister on the market square and told them what had happened.

“Isn’t there any way out of this?” he pleaded.

The woman shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t. The only thing I can do is stay close by and watch over you and your family. That’s the least I can do.”

And true to her word, she no longer travelled from place to place, but stayed put in Strasbourg. My great-grandfather ended up marrying her. She’s my great-nana Miri. And she vowed she’d always continue to watch over us, even after she died, until we’d finally manage to break the curse.”

Blaine exhaled in a huff. “Wow. That is some story. So what happened to make your great-grandfather unhappy, and then your grandfather, and then your father, and now you?”

“When my great-grandfather married my great-nana Miri, he took in her little sister Malina as well. And after a few years, Malina got ill, wasting away, and no doctor could cure her. She died. That was the first bad thing to happen to them. Then it was their children. Miri gave birth to ten children, but only two survived to adulthood. Two were born dead. Several died of infectious diseases. One drowned. Another fell from a horse and broke his neck.”

“That’s sad,” Blaine whispered.

“Yes. And in the end, my great-grandfather couldn’t bear to stay in Strasbourg anymore and came to America. It wasn’t plain sailing here, either. He became a farmer, but he would regularly lose his harvest to floods or crop pests.”

“To be fair, that also happens to people who aren’t cursed,” Blaine reasoned.

“Mm-hm… And then there was my grandfather, who was also called Kurt, by the way. It’s like our family knows only two male names: Herbert and Kurt. My great-grandfather’s name was Herbert, and my father got that same name, though he tells everyone to call him Burt.”

“Burt and Kurt,” Blaine repeated. “It has a certain ring to it.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Funny. Anyway, my grandfather fell in love when he was eighteen only to see her marry his best friend and live happily ever after. So then my grandfather married another woman, but they were always and forever quarrelling because he couldn’t forget about his first love and he slowly developed an alcohol problem. I think he beat my nana too. He died when I was four.”

“Okay…” Blaine said. “And what about your dad, then?”

“My dad hated his father and didn’t want to be a farmer, so he ran away to New York City when he was fifteen. He did all kinds of odd jobs and saved up the money until he could open up a shop. And his great unhappiness in life was that my mother kept having miscarriages. And then when she finally had me, she died in childbirth. He’s always resented me for that. He idolised my mother. She was really beautiful.”

“I bet you look just like her,” Blaine sighed, his chin in his hands and his elbows on his dressing table, gazing at Kurt dreamily.

Kurt’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Flatterer.”

Blaine got up and took Kurt’s hand in his. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kurt. You are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I could look at you for hours and never grow tired of it. For days, even.”

Kurt’s smile widened. “I could say the same about you.”

Blaine beamed at the compliment.

Kurt’s smile faltered. “And that’s exactly where my unhappiness lies. I’m… homosexual, and if my dad were ever to find out…”

Kurt shuddered, and Blaine reached out to pat his arm.

Kurt shot him a grateful look, and continued haltingly, swallowing with difficulty. “I don’t know… what he’d do… or say… but… it would be bad. He… He hates homosexuals.”

That look of utter fear was back in Kurt’s eyes, and Blaine couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Kurt in silent sympathy.

“So I’ll never be able to truly be myself. If I ever fall in love, it will have to remain a crush from afar. I can’t give in to it. You know what they do to people like us. No-one must ever suspect. So I will have to put a mask on every single day of my life, and I’m expected to marry a woman and produce children and continue the line, down to those stupid names of Herbert and Kurt. Ugh.”

Blaine nodded. He’d had a few discreet encounters with hotel guests, and knew that every minute of those had been nerve-wracking, his every thought, _Must not get caught_. He and Kurt hadn’t exchanged more than a few chaste kisses so far, yet he’d never felt about anyone the way Kurt made him feel. He was helpless against it, drawn to Kurt like he was attached to him with invisible string.

_Is this love? Soaring when he smiles at you, hanging on his every word, not noticing anything or anyone else while he’s in the same room as you?_

Whatever it was, he found it as frightening as it was exhilarating, and when Kurt left that night after kissing him shyly, he sighed and wished they could love each other out in the open, instead of having to hide from everyone and constantly being terrified at the thought of being found out.

 


	3. Courting Lieselotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep, I just totally forgot yesterday was Monday, seeing as it was a holiday! Sorry about that, and here's your new chapter.
> 
> Okay, so, seeing as there are TWO Kurts in this story and that can get confusing, I'm going to tell you each time which Kurt we're reading the point of view of. Chapter 3 is all about 1920s Kurt, who's finding out that he has a doppelgänger and a prospective bride.

# Chapter 3: Courting Lieselotte

_November 1925_

“Kurt?”

His father’s loud voice startled Kurt out of his reverie. He’d been stocking the shelves in the storage room behind the store, but his mind had been more on Blaine than on the buckets he’d been stacking.

“Yes, Father?”

Kurt went back into the store to see what his father wanted, and saw that Burt was… smiling?

“Why didn’t you tell me about this girl you’re seeing? Her uncle was here just now, praising you for being such a good kid, who’d apparently saved his wallet from thieves yesterday and then danced with his niece Lieselotte all evening, treating her like a princess.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open. He’d gone to bed right after dinner yesterday and cried himself to sleep, heartbroken that his father had forbidden him to go to back to The Dalton, seeing as he never brought home a girl and wouldn’t confess why he always stayed much later than the rest of the family.

“I don’t get why you’ve kept mum about this, son,” Burt continued. “I know I’m strict and I make you work hard, but I do it because I care about you, okay? I want what’s best for you. You know you can tell me about this stuff, right? Mr Hartz said you’re thinking about becoming a car salesman, too. I haven’t heard a peep about that from you either. What did you think, that I would be mad at you? I wouldn’t. I know very well that you won’t take over this store once I retire. And that’s okay. I’ll leave it to Jeremy. If you’d rather sell cars, then go right ahead.”

Kurt must have done a very convincing impression of a fish right then. As soon as he found his voice again, he croaked, “You… You wouldn’t mind?”

Burt smiled. “No. I know how you are about cars. And hey, if you marry his niece, you might end up running the car dealership and service garage one day!”

Kurt, who now remembered Mr Hartz as an affable man who’d once kept talking to his father at the store for nearly half the afternoon, still didn’t understand what had happened, and why the man seemed to think Kurt had danced with his niece. He didn’t even know what the girl looked like!

He stammered something unintelligible, and when his father winked at him, he felt his face heat up and cursed himself for it.

Burt seemed to take that as a confirmation that Kurt did have designs on the girl. “You know, I’d never have forbidden you to go dance at The Dalton if you’d TOLD me you were seeing someone. Hartz is a good guy, and I’m sure his family is too, so I really don’t get why you kept this a secret. You have my blessing, son. Go court her as often as you like. Bring her home as soon as you’ve proposed, and I promise I’ll be nothing but nice to her.”

Kurt, still very confused, managed to get himself together just enough to whisper “Thanks” and then excuse himself to the storage room again.

He had no idea what had happened – did he have a doppelgänger? – but one good thing that had come of it was that he’d be able to go to The Dalton again to see Blaine.

K&B

That evening, Kurt went back to The Dalton. He felt a bit guilty now about the letter filled with despair that he’d left for Blaine only the day before.

He decided to slip into Blaine’s dressing room and wait there until his performance was over. He’d brought a book to pass the time, and happily lost himself in the fantasy world it described.

“Kurt!”

Blaine sounded breathless and overwhelmed, and Kurt looked up with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about the letter. It seems like I panicked for nothing. My dad talked to me today and said there was talk of me courting a girl, and if that was the case I could come to The Dalton as often as I liked. So here I am!”

Kurt gave Blaine his sunniest smile, but Blaine continued looking at him as though Kurt were a ghost.

“Blaine? Are you okay?”

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “I hardly know. I… I need to talk to you about something. And I need you to believe me, and not call me crazy.”

Kurt nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the story that followed. A doppelgänger? And not only that, but someone from the future? His own great-grandson? And that was the one who’d been courting a girl for him?

When Blaine stopped talking, Kurt half expected him to laugh and say, “Fooled ya!”

But Blaine looked at him so earnestly and pleadingly that it was clear he wasn’t joking. That he truly believed everything he’d told Kurt.

“Wow,” said Kurt. “This sounds like something from a Jules Verne novel.”

Blaine’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

“And so this other Kurt advises me to marry the girl? What’s her name again? And what does she look like?”

Blaine described the girl – tall, blonde, blue-eyed, buxom, slender, her hair in a crown of plaits around her head.

Kurt snorted. “Too bad I don’t care for women, ‘cause she sounds like a looker.”

Blaine smiled. “She’s really pretty, yes.”

“And this other Kurt danced with her? And saved her uncle’s wallet from being stolen?”

“Yes.”

“And now the uncle wants to recruit me to sell cars.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like that,” Kurt mused, getting lost in a daydream for a moment.

When he looked up, Blaine’s eyes were brimming with tears, but he smiled as he said, “Well, it seems like you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Kurt wanted to back-track and assure Blaine of his love, but before he could get a word out, Blaine continued, “No, no, don’t placate me. We both knew it would come to this. All we could ever have is stolen moments, and at one point, that would have to stop. I’m happy for you, Kurt. Truly, I am. You’ll have a job that you love, and Lieselotte may not be who you’d pick to spend your life with if you could choose freely, but she’s the next best choice. Sweet and pretty, well-connected. You could do a lot worse. So, I’m going to wish you good luck, and goodbye. Have a good life, Kurt Hummel.”

As Kurt’s mouth worked to get words out that refused to come, Blaine’s back straightened, he got up, gave Kurt one last pained smile and a little wave, and left the dressing room.

Kurt’s head swam. This could not be happening. This could not be the end. He’d been so hopeful when he came here, so sure that they’d be able to work things out. But Blaine had given up on him already, it seemed.

Kurt didn’t dare venture further into the hotel to find Blaine, but resolved to come back and reason with him. He refused to give up on Blaine that easily.

K&B

Kurt, sticking to his resolve, returned the next evening to reason with Blaine, but got the shock of his life when he saw Blaine on the front steps of The Dalton talking to someone who looked just like him.

Kurt hastened to hide himself behind a tree on the sidewalk, hulking in the shadows and peeking out at the duo on the steps.

_So there IS a doppelgänger! This is insane. How can this be happening? He looks EXACTLY like me, right down to the cleft in his chin. Even his hair looks the same as mine, though I don’t know anyone else with a pompadour as high as mine! Is he really my great-grandson? And what is he saying that makes Blaine look so sad?_

Kurt’s great-grandson didn’t talk to Blaine for very long. He hurried inside the hotel. Blaine looked perplexed at his sudden departure, but shrugged and followed after him at a much slower pace.

Kurt didn’t dare go inside, but peeked into the windows of the hotel to see the occupants of the ballroom. His doppelgänger was dancing with a girl that fit Blaine’s description.

_What was her name again? Something that ends in ‘lotte’…_

The girl was laughing and chatting a mile a minute. Kurt’s great-grandson looked at her fondly, and whirled her around the dance floor with practised ease.

Then, they went to sit with the girl’s family, and the doppelgänger struck up a conversation with one of the men. The girl’s father? Nah, that was probably the scowling one.

After about half an hour, Kurt’s lookalike stood up and left, the girl smiling at him besottedly.

Kurt hesitated but then moved towards the hotel’s entrance to intercept his great-grandson and talk to him. Only, as soon as the man stepped onto the sidewalk, a gust of wind enveloped him and he vanished instantly.

Seconds later, the girl came running out of the hotel, spotted Kurt and came to him. “Kurt! This must have fallen off your waistcoat just now.”

She held out her hand, and in it was a brooch that Kurt recognised. White gold and intricately detailed, it portrayed a blooming rose, complete with thorns.

“It used to be my mother’s,” Kurt told her. That was true. There was a portrait of his mother hanging over the mantelpiece at home, and she was wearing teardrop earrings and this brooch. Kurt noticed that it looked a bit older and more worn than in the portrait, but still in good condition.

The girl beamed at him. “Is that why you always have it on your lapel? That’s so sweet!”

“She died when I was born,” Kurt blurted out.

The girl’s eyes grew sad. “And this is how you keep her close to your heart? Well, let me put it back on your lapel, then.”

Kurt panicked. His coat was similar to his great-grandson’s, but the suit he was wearing underneath certainly wasn’t, and she’d know instantly.

“No! No, I’d like you to have it, please,” he said, his words tumbling out gracelessly in his haste.

The girl raised her eyebrows.

“Please. I… Forgive me if this is too forward, but…”

Inwardly, Kurt cursed himself. He was SO bad at this. How was he ever to make a girl believe he loved her?

But the girl blushed and lowered her eyes, and then put her hand on his. “Yes. I know. I feel it too. We clicked from the very first moment.”

_Never mind that it wasn’t me… Thank heavens you can’t seem to tell the difference!_

“Would you… Would you put it on me?”

Kurt looked at her with wide eyes, but when she only smiled at him encouragingly and held out her hand for him to take the brooch, he took it and fumbled until it was fastened to her dress and he was blushing up a storm.

“Thank you,” the girl said, and she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Lieselotte! Come back inside! Now!”

The booming voice startled them both, but then Lieselotte laughed. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Kurt looked at her like a deer in the headlights, and then nodded, speechless, his cheeks still burning.

“See you then! And thank you for the brooch, it’s beautiful!”

She jumped up the steps and disappeared.

Kurt watched her go and then let out his breath in a woosh.

_Phew, that was close._

Back home, he opened what had been his mother’s closet, and rummaged until he found her jewellery box. The brooch was still there, and in pristine condition.

His heart beating wildly, he took it out of the box and put it in his pocket. Then, he carefully put everything back where it belonged and went to bed.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was, _I need to get that brooch back to the other Kurt_.

 


	4. Back into Time Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had the time to write lately, so here's another chapter of Never Saying Goodbye to You. This one is from modern time Kurt's point of view.

# Chapter 4: Back into Time Again

_2016_

The next day, Kurt went back. It was stronger than himself. He just HAD to know if Blaine would appear again.

At first, Kurt just stood there, stupidly staring at the former hotel, and nothing happened.

Then he thought, _Please! Please bring me back to Blaine._

A strong wind enveloped him, and a moment later, he saw the hotel lit up again, with Blaine sitting on the front steps, reading a letter and frowning.

Kurt went up to him. “Hey.”

Blaine nearly jumped a foot in the air, snatching the letter away and hiding it behind his back. Then, he saw it was Kurt, and his eyes went impossibly wider. “It’s you!”

“Yes,” Kurt simply said. “Somehow I managed to get back here. I still don’t understand how this works. Anyway. Last time I came here, I danced with Lieselotte Hartz, so if your Kurt contacts you, you might want to tell him she likes him. Oh, and her uncle likes him too, and wants him to become a Ford car salesman.”

Blaine gaped at Kurt. After a moment, he tentatively asked, “So, you’re…”

“The 2016 version, yes,” Kurt confirmed. “I liked your singing, yesterday. You have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said softly. “So, you want me to tell Kurt what, exactly?”

Kurt went over it again, and Blaine nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Usually, Kurt comes every Saturday, with his family, but he hasn’t come for the past two weeks, and today, he left a letter in my dressing room saying he’s not sure he’ll ever be back. His father suspects something dodgy, seeing as he always stays long after the rest of his family have gone home, and yet he never brings home a girl.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “You could write to my great-grandfather? If he doesn’t come back? Answer his letter and tell him about Lieselotte. She really liked me, and I don’t think she’d be able to tell the difference between him and me, if you can’t. If his father insists on him bringing home a girl, it could be Lieselotte. She’s very easy-going and nice.”

Blaine snorted. “You want me to tell Kurt he has a doppelgänger, who is courting Lieselotte for him?”

“Hey, he’s the one who told you about the family curse and stuff,” Kurt said. “I’m sure he’s open-minded. And tell him about the car salesman job, too. I think it will do him good to get out from under his father’s thumb.”

A booming voice came from the hotel. “Anderson! Your break ended five minutes ago!”

“Drat!!” Blaine got up, folded up his letter and put it in his chest pocket and hurried up the steps with a wave at Kurt.

Kurt hesitated, but then went up the steps and looked for Lieselotte in the ballroom. She spotted him faster than he did, and waved in his direction until he saw her. He smiled and crossed the room until he reached her table, greeting everyone with a “Good evening.”

Lieselotte’s mother smiled at Kurt, her uncle smirked and winked, and her father glowered.

“Kurt!” Lieselotte exclaimed happily. “You’re back!”

Kurt grinned at her. “I’m back. I can’t stay long, but I’d love to dance with you again.”

Lieselotte beamed and took his hand to tug him to the dancefloor. Kurt’s eyes met Blaine’s, and Blaine sent him a smile, which gave Kurt such a burst of happy energy that he couldn’t help but grin and then twirl Lieselotte around enthusiastically.

True to his promise, Kurt didn’t stay long. After two songs, he took Lieselotte back to her table, wished everyone a pleasant evening and left.

As a strong wind enveloped him once again and he found himself back in 2016 staring at cracked windows and paint peeling off, he found himself wondering what the other Kurt would do. Would he choose Blaine and run off with him? Or would he marry Lieselotte and live unhappily ever after?

Well, seeing as he was here, nearly a hundred years later, his great-grandfather must have married Lieselotte. Had he continued to see Blaine on the side?

And what in the world made him time-travel and meet Blaine? Why had that happened? What was his purpose there?

His phone buzzed twice in quick succession, and he saw that it was Mercedes, asking him why he hadn’t turned up to see her perform. “What’s your excuse this time?”

Kurt bit his lip. He had no excuse. He’d just plain forgotten, eager as he’d been to see Blaine again.

But hey, now he’d done his duty, right? Now his great-grandfather would know what to do, and he could wash his hands of the whole affair. No need for him to ever go back.

That thought sent a sharp pang through his chest, but he told himself not to be silly. _Better think of what you’re going to tell Mercedes._

K&B

After a night of tossing and turning, Kurt still had no idea how to explain things to Mercedes. Would she believe him if he told her the truth? Or would she just get even more angry?

He also couldn’t stop thinking about Blaine. Blaine, who had the smoothest voice he’d ever heard. Blaine, who was gorgeous and sweet and drew him in without even trying.

A snide voice in his head mocked, _Yeah, sure, ‘cause crushing on a guy who’s a century older than you is so much better than the crushes on straight guys you keep having. Blaine is in love with your great-grandfather, not with you._

Kurt sighed. _Better not go back anymore, right?_

But though he’d resolved to go see Mercedes perform that evening, his feet seemed to have a will of their own, and before he knew it, he was on the sidewalk in front of the former hotel again, pacing and picturing Blaine and wishing with all his might that he could go back to 1925 once more.

He didn’t realise his wish had been granted until he felt a hand on his arm.

“Kurt? Are you all right?”

“Blaine!”

It came out breathier than Kurt would have liked, so he hastened to ask Blaine if he’d relayed his message to his great-grandfather.

Blaine’s eyebrows went up.

_Really, Blaine? You still can’t tell us apart?_

Apparently, he had told the other Kurt, though. He seemed sad about it.

“Has he arrived yet?”

Blaine shook his head.

“Oh good. I’m going to dance with Lieselotte for a bit, then.”

_Might as well make myself useful while I’m here._

As the night before, he danced with the girl for two songs, and then brought her back to her family, easily slipping into a conversation about cars with Mr Hartz.

He thanked his lucky stars that his father was nuts about classic cars, the older the better, and regularly fixed them up for rich collectors. He remembered a 1923 Ford T Runabout they had worked on together, while Burt waxed lyrical about the sweet curves of the car, and its carburettor – “look at it, Kurt! Such good quality” – and told Kurt that the hood was jamming and failing because it hadn’t been opened and closed regularly. “You need to do that at least once a month to keep the mechanisms working properly, remember that.”

After half an hour or so, he politely excused himself and took his leave.

“I’ll be back,” he promised Lieselotte, who beamed at him.

_It won’t be me, but I doubt you’ll notice the difference._

He walked out of the hotel and shivered when the wind took him back to 2016. Walking briskly, he managed to reach the venue where Mercedes worked just in time to hear the last song and the encore.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow when she noticed him, and after bowing gracefully to the crowd, she gestured for Kurt to follow her to her dressing room.

A burly bodyguard stepped in front of Kurt when he reached the backstage area, though.

“Tank, it’s okay,” Mercedes said. “Kurt is a friend of mine.”

“No gentlemen callers allowed in the dressing room, Miss Jones,” Tank reminded her.

“Ugh, okay then. Kurt, let’s meet for brunch tomorrow, at Sadelle’s. Ten o’clock?”

Kurt nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“You better be. And you better have a good explanation. Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak in when my set was almost finished!”

Mercedes threw him a glare and then stomped to her dressing room.

Kurt sighed. _Whatever will I tell her?_

K&B

“So why have you blown me off for three nights in a row?”

Mercedes was piling Danish pastries onto her plate with more vim than that action called for. She sounded belligerent, and no wonder. He’d promised to go see her perform, and he kept bailing on her to go see Blaine, who didn’t care about him anyway.

Kurt kept his eyes down and went on filling his plate with more eggs and bacon, planning to come back for some smoked salmon and avocado. Brunch was excellent here.

“Did you meet someone and are you too busy having steamy sex? ‘Cause I’m telling you, you better have a good reason!”

“Uhm…”

Mercedes gasped. “You have! You totally have! Okay, you’re telling me ALL about it!”

She steered him away from the buffet and back to their table.

“Spill.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I’m going to eat these eggs while they’re warm. Talking can wait.”

He took as long as he dared with the eggs, but when he got up to help himself to seconds, Mercedes tugged him back down.

“Oh, nuh-uh. You put your sweet ass back in your seat and tell me what’s going on.”

Kurt took one look at her face and knew it was no use arguing.

“Fine. But I’m telling you straight off the bat, you’re not going to believe me.”

Mercedes just glared at him. “Spill.”

So Kurt told her the whole story, and by the end of it, Mercedes looked at him as though he’d just grown an extra head.

“Are you messing with me now? ‘Cause I’m telling you, if you are, I’m going to rip you a new one!”

Kurt sighed. “No, ‘Cedes. I swear I’m not. I really don’t understand what’s happening, and why I’m time-travelling. I guess it has to do with the family curse. I’ve never really believed in that. Not when my mom died. Not when I was bullied until I almost broke. Not when NYADA rejected me. And not when my dad died. Life just sucks. That’s the way it is. Seems kind of childish to blame it on a curse. Better deal with it head on and make the best of the situation. But now… This… This is harder to explain away. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Why I keep going there.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes. “You keep going ‘cause you’re totally into that Blaine guy, of course. You should see yourself when you’re talking about him. And you’ve seen him, what? Three times, for five minutes tops? You’ve got it bad, boo.”

Kurt sank further into his chair and put his hands over his eyes.

He felt a hand on his arm. “Aww, don’t be embarrassed, boo. I’ve been there for all of your crushes, and this isn’t the worst by a long shot. At least the guy is actually gay. I call that progress.”

Kurt glared at his friend, who giggled.

“He’s gay, yes, but he’s in love with my great-grandfather, not me, and he died before I was born. I should never have met him, and I only did because I’m some… freak of nature, who can go a century back into time.”

Mercedes’ eyes lost the glimmer of laughter. “You’re not a freak, boo. And everything happens for a reason.”

“But I helped him get a girl and a job, so my work there is done now, isn’t it?”

Mercedes cocked her head to the side. “I don’t think it is. As long as you’re still feeling that pull to go back, you’re still needed there. I don’t know what for. But I don’t think it’s over.”

 


	5. Getting Serious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is once again from "old" Kurt's point of view. 1920s Kurt gets permission to date Lottie, and Burt is pretty much planning the wedding already.
> 
> This is the last "ready" chapter, so now you'll have to wait for me to churn out a new one. Next week, I'll have a Facing Your Dragons update for you, and after that, I'll focus on Chapter 6 of this story. Thank you for your patience and your thoughtful feedback and your readiness to come with me on whatever adventure my mind dreams up. It truly means the world to me.

# Chapter 5: Getting Serious

_November 1925_

The next evening, Kurt went back to the Dalton, and thankfully, the girl waved at him as soon as he entered the ballroom, and jumped off her seat to come greet him.

“Lieselotte!” a loud voice barked.

But Lieselotte just rolled her eyes and said to Kurt, “Let’s dance!”

She took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Kurt quaked a little inside. He wasn’t as good of a dancer as his great-grandson, and he could only hope Lieselotte wouldn’t notice. He looked at the other dancing pairs and tried to copy the men’s movements. It worked well enough, and soon, Lieselotte was gabbing away at him – about the brooch and her dad being angry about it, though her uncle and mother agreed it was a sweet gesture.

“Your dad is angry with me?” Kurt asked. That wasn’t good. His hands became clammy, and he felt the hair on his arms prickle uncomfortably.

“Oh, don’t mind him, he’d kick up a fuss no matter who I started stepping out with,” Lieselotte reassured him. “It’s nothing personal. You’re from a good family. My mother really likes you. Says you’re polite and respectful, and would be an excellent match for me. My dad just… Well, he’d like for me to always stay his little girl. He doesn’t like the thought of me marrying and moving away.”

Kurt hummed in understanding.

After a few dances, Lieselotte said she was thirsty and led him to her family’s table, still holding his hand.

Kurt smiled nervously. “Good evening.”

“Sit down, boy,” one of the men said, grinning.

The other one glared at Kurt and then snapped, “So I take it you have designs on my daughter?”

Kurt glanced at Lieselotte, and her encouraging smile gave him the strength to look her father in the eye. “Yes, sir. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to court your daughter.”

“Hmmpf.”

“Oh, Carl, don’t be such a curmudgeon!” his wife berated him.

“Well, he might have asked me first, before giving Lotte jewellery!”

Kurt cleared his throat. “I meant to, sir. It… It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I apologise.”

“Hmmpf.”

Lieselotte’s mother nudged her husband, until he reluctantly said, “Apology accepted. And Lotte likes you well enough, so I guess you can court her. But don’t you dare get fresh with her or I’ll have your hide!”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

_Ain’t that the truth…_

Lieselotte and her mother both beamed at him, and the other man at the table engaged Kurt in a conversation about cars.

Kurt lit up and eagerly discussed every aspect of the new Ford T Runabout, and before he knew it, the band stopped playing and the waiters announced that there would only be one more round of fruit punch.

“Oh, I stayed for far too long,” Kurt exclaimed.

“And you only danced three dances with me all evening,” Lieselotte pouted.

Kurt looked at her, stricken. For a moment there, he’d forgotten all about her.

“Aww, Lotte, you’ll have your whole life to dance with Kurt.”

That made Lieselotte smile again. “I hope so, Uncle Franz.”

“I promise I won’t monopolise your beau tomorrow. Kurt, my boy, any time you want that job as a car salesman, it’s yours! You’ve more than proved that you’re fit for it.”

Kurt grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

He squeezed Lieselotte’s hand. “I promise I’ll dance more with you tomorrow. It’s just… When I start talking about cars…”

Lieselotte sighed and then laughed. “I know, I know. It was the same yesterday. I can live with it, as long as you promise me at least five dances.”

Kurt smiled at her. “You have my word.”

_She IS nice. I’ll never love her like I love Blaine, but I think I could grow to love her. Yes._

When Kurt came home, his dad was still up, reading and smoking his pipe.

“You’re late,” Burt said. “You’ve never come home this late.”

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up. “I… I lost track of time. It… I… I promise it won’t happen again.”

Burt blew a smoke ring and then grinned at Kurt. “Looked a bit too deep into your girl’s eyes, did you?”

“I… We… We were... talking…” Kurt stammered, feeling more uncomfortable with the minute. “With her family… And I… I didn’t realise… I didn’t know… it had gotten so late.”

Burt hummed. “Talking. Uh-huh.”

“Dad!!” Kurt protested, the tips of his ears flaming.

Burt laughed. “Aw, let me have my fun. Jeremy has a new girl every few weeks, so Clint gets to rag him over and over again. You’re so earnest about this stuff that you will probably only ever be in love once. So I need to tease you about her while I can. That moonstruck phase is not going to last long, if you take after me. I’d been courting my Lizzie for only two weeks when I proposed to her. You have marriage on your mind already, don’t you? ”

Kurt smiled hesitantly. “I… Yes. Uhm, Dad?”

Burt took another drag from his pipe. “Yes?”

Kurt gripped his hat with both hands. “I… I hope you don’t mind, Dad, but I’ve given Lieselotte the rose brooch.”

There was a moment of silence. Burt’s back straightened, and his jaw worked, and his eyes grew darker. “Lizzie’s brooch?”

“Yes, Dad.”

Burt stared at his son for a good long while. Then he let out a deep sigh. “You’re serious about this girl.”

Kurt nodded, now twirling his hat around in his hands.

Burt sighed and shrugged. “All right, then. I wouldn’t have let you give away Lizzie’s brooch to just anyone, but if you’ve got your heart set on this girl, you’ll marry her, and the brooch will stay in the family.”

“If she says yes.”

Burt laughed. “She accepted the brooch, didn’t she? That’s your yes right there.”

“Is that why her dad was so angry?” Kurt asked. “He told me I should have spoken to him first, before offering her jewellery.”

“Yep, you should have asked him first.”

Kurt swallowed. “I didn’t know. I meant no harm.”

“I know you didn’t,” Burt said, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Her dad will get over it. What’s her name again?”

“Lieselotte.”

“Hmpf. Kind of a mouthful. I’m gonna call her Lottie. When can I meet her?”

Kurt had no answer to that. “Uhm…”

“Oh, all right, I see how it is. Young love and all that. I’ll give you ‘till Christmas to bring her home, how’s that?”

Kurt gulped and stammered out an incomprehensible reply before fleeing to his bedroom. Burt’s laughter followed him.

Christmas, that was little more than a month from now. Still, he welcomed the reprieve. It would give him some more time to convince Blaine not to give up on him. And it would allow him to get to know Lieselotte better, and befriend her.

He couldn’t give Lottie all of his heart, ‘cause that belonged to Blaine now, but he could give her his friendship and support. If marrying her was his lot in life, he resolved to be the best husband he could possibly be. He would never desire her, but he would compliment her on her beauty and help her enhance it with the right clothes and hairstyle. He would never wish to bed her, but somehow he’d manage to give her children if that’s what she desired. He would never have his head turned by her, but he’d be her fiercest ally and her strongest supporter. They might not be compatible sexually, but in every other aspect, they’d be an unbreakable unit. He owed her that much.

He started taking off his clothes to get ready for bed, and then froze when he felt the brooch still in his coat pocket. He’d forgotten to take it to Blaine’s dressing room, so absorbed had he been in the conversation with Lottie’s uncle.

_Tomorrow. I’ll go back tomorrow. I don’t want Dad or Lottie to find the brooch._

 

**Author's Note:**

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